


Black

by i_amtheoutlaw



Series: Spn Season 10 Short Stories [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Gen, Pre-Slash, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amtheoutlaw/pseuds/i_amtheoutlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, angel . . .” said a voice from behind him, a very familiar voice. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself.”</p><p>“Dean,” was all Cas could think to have said.</p><p>Castiel heard only a chuckle in reply.</p><p>Dean was laughing.</p><p>Dean Winchester was laughing at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black

The memories materialized slowly . . . trickled along his mind’s eye like an iceberg melting under the hot sun as he fell into consciousness.

_Black._

In the cabin the walls had been wooden and old.

_Black._

Blue robes had been warm and the sheets were stale but felt nice against skin.

_Black._

A familiar form that was blackened and burned and morphed stood over the bed.

_Black._

A clearer picture flashed through his mind then. Finally he wasn’t just seeing just bits and pieces. The ice had melted and his _emotions_ flooded through, latched on to the different memories and sorted themselves out. The memories stayed the same but he no longer felt disconnected from them. The images felt woven into his very being, like they were once again a part of him. They were _his_. He no longer observed, he _knew_.

_Black._

A demon had found him somehow, had sought him out even in his weakened state for unknown reasons, and had mostly likely wanted something from him. Panic overcame him at first, then he was quickly taken over by relief because air was in his lungs. He could still _breathe_. He wasn’t _dead_.

_Black._

The demon’s form had been so familiar. Castiel couldn’t for life of him remember where he had met that demon before, but he knew undoubtedly that he had encountered the creature sometime in his long existence.

_Black._

Perhaps he would remember when the throbbing pain in his vessel’s skull resided a bit.

_Black._

Castel opened his eyes and realized that he couldn’t see a thing. All was black. Then he belatedly realized that he was blindfolded and tied to a chair. The binds that held him were neither tight nor strong, but Castiel couldn’t have found the strength to break free. Even if he were to exert the very last of his grace in one powerful thrust it wouldn’t have done any good. No. He would only have harmed or possibly killed himself. He would have to wait and see how things played out. He would have to wait for his captor and find out what it wanted from him. He would have to conserve and wait for a safer time to strike.

If he ended up lucky, he could even take the demon who had knocked him out and left him this _awful_ headache with him as he went.

Castiel’s whole vastly being may have been so far faded from him at this point in time that he’d been confined by mere cloth and rope, but at least he could still see their faces. He could still see the evil that hoped to hide within humanity and he had a feeling he would always be freed from this deception. 

Well _always_ , Castiel thought angrily, except for when he’d been blindfolded that was.

Then he wouldn’t be able to see a Goddamned thing . . . 

Because of a _Goddamned_ piece of fabric.

“Son of a bitch,” Cas huffed quietly and the use of his voice had him dying to itch the back of his vessel’s throat with a _Goddamned_ fork, but, before he’d even a chance to swallow, a coughing fit overtook him.

When the sound of a door opening and closing alerted him to another’s presence, Castiel had still been coughing, but he willed the desire away and swallowed down the left over tickles that threatened to send him over the edge again.

“Oh, angel . . .” said a voice from behind him, a very familiar voice. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself.”

“Dean,” was all Cas could think to have said.

Castiel heard only a chuckle in reply.

Dean was laughing.

Dean Winchester was laughing at him.

“Dean,” breathed Cas again, this time it seemed as if Cas had let every emotion he felt burst through the single syllable without meaning to.

“It’s me, angel . . . it’s me.”

“Why . . .” Cas trailed off. He’d about asked why Dean was calling him angel, but then he realized that there were probably more important issues at hand. Like why Dean seemed happy. Or why Cas was still _Goddamned_ tied up. “What’s going on?”

“I got you a present.”

“What?” asked Castiel, confused.

Footsteps brought Dean’s presence closer to him and Cas swore that if he concentrated he could still feel Dean stirring along the edges of his grace.

He couldn’t have. Not really. He had no grace.

“A present, Castiel.”

“For-for me?” asked Cas, he knew it sounded odd but Dean was being very odd, wasn’t he? Cas wondered, but he couldn’t have thought straight. _Goddamned_ it all, Cas wished the throbbing in his head and the pounding in heart would cease so he could have thought. So he could’ve understood. 

“Who else, angel?”

Before Castiel could have answered Dean was close. Way closer than he had ever come before. He climbed into Cas’s lap easily though, and straddled him like it was an everyday occurrence. 

Then Cas felt it. A blade pressed close to his neck.

It wasn’t Dean then. Had Dean been possessed? Had Cas faded from grace so much that he couldn’t even tell that something else wore this body he was so familiar with? Dean wouldn’t have done any of this, but then why did it still _feel_ like Dean who pressed a cold blade to his neck?

_Goddamned_ emotions, Cas growled out loud at this thought. Stupid, misleading, powerful things.

_The First Blade_ , Cas belatedly realized was what must have been pressed to his throat. But wait, Cas thought, bone wouldn’t have been this cool against his skin. He hadn’t a clue what was going on. Surely if a demon had possessed Dean they would be using the blade. Why else risk possessing the body of a Winchester?

“Son of a bitch,” Cas breathed again, and let go. He couldn’t do anything to stop this so why bother?

“Shh,” was all he got in reply.

Then pain blossomed in his neck and he heard some shuffling before a completely overwhelming and euphoric feeling enveloped him.

He wasn’t whole again. Castiel instantly knew that it hadn’t been his own grace that just entered him, but it did the job. Cas felt all his faded parts snap back with a flourish and before he knew what he was doing he’d freed himself and slammed Dean’s body into the wall in front of him. Castiel blinked.

_Black._

His eyes were wide open and there was no blindfold . . . but all he saw was black, mangled and burned and morphed.

_Black._

Cas abruptly let go and stumbled back, but it didn’t matter because Dean was already gone and the blackness had followed him.

Cas remembered then, he knew where he’d seen a morphed soul that looked just like that before . . . 

It was only a few years ago, deep in the pit . . . 

Chained to Alistair’s rack.

“God damn it!” Cas hissed, and didn’t even stop to realize that he’d just taken the Lord’s name in vain, _out loud_ while filled to the brim with grace, which was something he’d never been inclined to do before even when he’d practically been human. He may have thought it every step of the way, but he’d never spoken the words out loud.

He didn’t care. 

The righteous man was a demon.

_Goddamned_ it all.


End file.
